Not Guilty
by ArroFro
Summary: AU. What if the past never happened? Prompted by her parents' careers, Kate Beckett has enrolled in law school with her dream of being a Supreme Court Justice. With only one year left, she is sure of where her life is headed. But does a fateful encounter in a coffee shop change everything? And when his secrets come out, will she be able to forgive him?
1. Chapter 1

**-One-**

It is one of those harried Tuesday mornings. Gulping down bursts of her scalding hot coffee, Kate dodges a group of freshmen on her way to her class. Advanced Criminal Law with Professor Cromwell. It doesn't matter that she's had six weeks of class with this man; he still terrifies her and most of her class. There is no way she's going to be late. Professor Cromwell is renowned for picking on latecomers mercilessly, and she is not about to join their humiliated little group. Only one more year. One more year of law school and she'll be out, done, ready to move on with her life. God, she is so ready to be done. But she really can't afford to be fixated on that day where she gets to walk across the stage and collect her certificate. No, before then she still has to pass the infamous Crommonster's class.

Slightly out of breath, she pushes the door to the classroom open minutes before class begins. The professor is not yet there and Kate sighs with relief, settling in an empty seat next to her friend, Michelle. Laying out her books and uncapping her pen, she leans back, collecting herself before the intellectual onslaught of Cromwell's class. Before she can even open her notebook, the professor saunters in.

"Geez, you barely made it, Kate." Michelle glances at her from the corner of her eye.

"Right? I got held up by my roommate. Relationship drah-mah! I tell you, if Lanie doesn't sort this thing out with this guy she won't ever get through med."

"Hmm, well-" Michelle cuts herself off. Professor Cromwell has begun, not even waiting the accepted period for the chitchat to subside. Dragging her rolling eyes from Michelle's, Kate flips open her book to a fresh page. Nine months. Only nine months until she can leave school behind and get on with her life.

* * *

One hundred and nineteen minutes later, Kate rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm. Who knew consent was such a touchy issue? Surely a person said yes or no? Apparently not. Apparently there are fifty thousand other things a person has to take into account to determine if there is consent. That class was way beyond what they covered in the compulsory criminal law subject. Now they are mired in the murky waters of intoxicated consent, or implied consent, or even coerced consent. Not for the first time since beginning this degree, Kate wonders what humanity is coming to. To what level of depravity are people willing to sink in order to fulfil bizarre or sick needs? Glancing over at Michelle, Kate sees her own queasiness reflected. Coffee. They both need a break from the real world.

Reciting Michelle's coffee order in her head, Kate waits in line to place her order at her favourite campus coffee spot. She is so ready for the mid-semester break that starts on Friday. If she can suffer through four more days of class and work she'll get that glorious two weeks off to pretend to study for finals. She can even hear her mother's voice – "it's your last chance to understand the basic concepts of the relevant law before your finals, you need to understand what you do and don't follow so you can question your professors before it's too late…" Sometimes, Kate regrets following her parents' footsteps into the law. But then she thinks of the good she can do, has already helped to do at the firm she paralegals for, and she becomes reinvigorated.

"Hi there, what can I get for you?"

Kate starts. She's at the front of the queue.

"Oh, hi, um… Two grande skim lattes with a shot of vanilla, please. To go."

Handing over her money, Kate stands aside to wait for their orders, mind wondering over how she got where she stands. Her childhood was filled with villains and heroes, both real and imagined. A small smile skims across her face as she recalls her mother's bedtime stories. A young woman who fights her way through darkness to find the reward at the end of the trail. A young couple who battles evil nemeses to find solace in each other. There were definitely common threads in her mother's stories. Young, strong women who could fight for themselves and found happiness in themselves and others. Kate grins. Her mother has never been subtle, and she couldn't love her more for it.

As her mind drifts slowly over a favourite of her mother's stories, Kate stumbles as another person knocks her aside. Clutching the edge of the coffee shop's service counter, Kate stares. A man glances sheepishly at her before placing his order.

"Uh, a tall latte please. Nothing extra."

Kate's stare becomes a glare. How is it so hard to stand up still, not fumble all over the place and knock people about? The man appears to quiver at her stare as he pays.

"Hi, um, sorry about that. Lost my footing."

Kate glances at his even footing and the lack of any obstacles around him, one eyebrow slightly raised. "It's fine. No harm done." Taking a step back, Kate evades his eye. She's not quite sure why, but there's something about him she wants to avoid. Maybe it's that combination of boyishness, strength and just a hint of pain in his face. She can already tell how easily she could get pulled into this man.

"I'm Rick." He procures his hand to shake. "Sorry, again," he adds.

Barely withholding a smile, Kate takes his hand. "Kate," she mutters. "It's no problem."

As their hands connect, Kate's eyes meet with his despite her best efforts. They are startlingly blue. Holding his gaze a second too long, she smiles then drops her hand, ready to step back and politely wait for her drinks alone. Rick has other ideas.

"Are you studying?" He doesn't shift his eyes from hers, and she feels slightly trapped in his attention.

"Uh, yes. Law. Just this year left. You?"

"Oh, no. Just looking for inspiration."

A tiny wrinkle appears in her brow, and she's about to question this when, perhaps thankfully, her drink orders are called. Throwing Rick a small parting smile, she grabs the two cups and spins towards the table that Michelle has claimed.

Pushing Michelle's drink toward her, Kate grins.

"One grande skim latte with vanilla, just as the lady ordered. Best afternoon cure for overwhelming criminal law around."

As she settles herself in the seat, securing her handbag below the chair, Michelle grasps the cardboard cup, savouring a long sip.

"About time! What was the hold up? Or should I ask, who?" Michelle's eyes twinkle dangerously. Kate's not entirely sure what to make of it, until she spots the man, Rick, out of the corner of her eye. It appears he is still carefully watching them. Her? She feels the need to swallow heavily.

"Nothing… I guess it's just our luck to hit caffeine rush hour." Kate takes a long drink from her cup. It scalds her slightly but she doesn't flinch, very aware that Rick is still watching.

"What are you talking about, Kate? Be straight with me! That delicious hunk of a man is STILL staring at you! What on earth did you say to him?!"

Feeling a slight flush take over her cheeks, Kate dips her head. "I dunno, he just bumped into me. It's no big deal, Chelle. I'll probably never see him again."

Michelle stares. "I'm not sure… There's something about him that looks kinda familiar. Does he have a class with one of us?"

Kate shakes her head. "Not with me. Anyway, I gotta go. Contracts with Bourke. I'll see you tomorrow?"

As she wraps a hand lightly around Michelle's shoulder, Kate stands. Flipping her bag over her shoulder, grabbing her drink, Kate strides out of the café, appearing totally at ease.

But as she sits in her contracts class, forty-five minutes later, she can't quite shake his face from her mind. Rick. No, not Rick. Peppercorns. Something about the peppercorn principle and consideration. That's what her professor is talking about. She tries to concentrate, but she struggles. Maybe she'll just write this afternoon off – she didn't have a lot of sleep, after all. It'll be much easier to focus when she starts her criminal law assigning later that evening anyway, she's sure. When she sits down to write it, she'll definitely be able to concentrate. No doubt.

Stretching and rolling her neck slightly, Kate shifts her pen. She's in class, and then she has to write that criminal law paper. She has no time to consider that intriguing man from the coffee shop who seemingly couldn't stop staring at her. No time at all. Her thumb knuckles crack as she flexes them, ready to take a fresh set of notes. Focus. All she needs is focus, and that man is not part of it.

* * *

Two days later, Kate is sure he's stalking her. Well, maybe not. But she has caught sight of him twice more. Maybe she is unwittingly stalking him? No, that's insane. She's just been following her normal routine… with perhaps a few more stops at her favourite haunt for coffee than usual. But she's there so often the staff knows her coffee order, so she can hardly be accused of stalking someone there.

Shaking her head, Kate grabs her coffee, ignoring the slight pang at not having seen him today. Yet as she strides out the door, she collides heavily with someone, her coffee dangerously sloshing but mercifully not spilling.

"Oh! Sorry! Uh, hi… Rick?" Kate blushes. Would a person normally remember a name after just one meeting?

"Yes! No, my fault. Kate, isn't it?" He glances down, perhaps to see if her coffee has breached the little plastic sippy-cup lid. "I'd offer to get you a new coffee, but it appears you possess far greater physical coffee-equilibrium skills than me. But this makes it twice in a week I've nearly knocked you down… Could I possibly buy you dinner to make up for my blunders?"

Kate swallows. One year left. She has been trying to avoid any more distractions, since that last… thing… with her ex. But this man seems so sweet, so genuine. She can't help but be drawn in.

"I guess I can do dinner. A girl's gotta eat, after all." She's almost surprised to hear herself speak. "I have an assignment due Saturday afternoon, so how about that night?" If she hadn't heard her own voice form the words, she'd struggle to believe them.

"Saturday it is! How's eight?"

As they exchange numbers, Kate wonders what she's got herself into. Her last boyfriend was a sure-fire disaster, and she's not sure she can take another one. This Rick guy seems nice, but so did Mark, and he sure screwed her around monumentally. She shudders at the memory. Rick is not Mark. And it's just a dinner. She can do that. She can do dinner on Saturday night. And in the mean time, she can forget him and work on this hellish criminal law assignment for Cromwell. She absolutely can.

* * *

It's yet another two days later, on Saturday morning, and Kate Beckett stares at the document before her. The little blinking cursor taunts her, reminding her of her lack of focus, her inability to produce words on the screen. Last week it was fine. Last week she was able to look at her class assignments, identify the issues in the legal problems her professors produced. Last week she felt normal. This week was all confused. This week she didn't know which way was up.

It is all his fault. He is all that is running through her mind. Him, and those bizarre encounters, and those undoubtedly cute text messages he's been sending since they swapped numbers. She has more important things to focus on right now than what she'll wear tonight. Did he say what kind of place they would be going to? Wait, no, he's exceeded his share of her thoughts today; she has work to do with an imminent deadline. Turning back to her assignment, she tries valiantly to clear her mind, to rid her thoughts of any trace of him. Forcing herself to type a few words, she squints her eyes. All she has to do is forget him.

Of course, that is far easier said than done.

_**A/N**_

_Hello! I've spent a lot of time lurking, but have never written anything myself before. Please let me know what you all think/if you think I should continue! This little idea has been festering inside my head for a little while now. _

_Though, I must confess that I have no actual idea how the justice system really works in the US, or what it is like being a law student there, so I hope you can all accept a little creative licence!_

_I'm very keen to know what you think, and whether this little idea is worth pursuing. _


	2. Chapter 2

**-Two-**

Kate waits anxiously as the NYU library printer slowly spits out the pages of her criminal law paper. Is it just her imagination, or is the printer getting slower with each page? She checks her watch, fiddling with the slim wristband as it tells her she only has five minutes left before her paper is officially late.

With a sorry sounding wheeze from the poor abused printer, the last page of her assignment finally slides onto the tray of the printer and Kate hurriedly scoops it up. After a final flick through the pages, making sure they are all there, she slams a staple into the corner of the pages, snatches up her handbag and half runs to the stairs. Thank god Professor Cromwell's office is in the same building as the library – with only three minutes left there is no way she'd have made it in time if he were anywhere else.

Kate slides her assignment under the professor's door just barely on the right edge of the deadline. Blowing a chunk of hair from her eyes, Kate shares in the relieved smiles of the three other students clustered around the door who also scraped in on time. She can't help the compassionate wince that crosses her face when she catches the eye of another classmate as he runs up the stairs, completely out of breath. He's only about 90 seconds after the deadline, but in Cromwell's class that's all it takes.

Very aware of how fine she shaved the line herself, Kate takes a few deep breaths to calm her heart rate, unnecessarily holding in the down button on the elevator. Inside her head she can hear her parents' deep disapproval if she were to fail a paper for something as manageable as a deadline. Maybe it hadn't been such a great idea to move back to the city after she graduated from Stanford. As much as she loved California, she had really missed the city; and as much as she grumbles, feels like her parents are hovering over her shoulders, they really aren't that bad. They're just looking out for her, she knows. Though she is not always the easiest daughter, especially after four years of independence at three thousand miles, she loves them deeply and can't imagine what her life would be like without either of them. Shuddering at the thought, Kate glances up as the elevator car arrives. There's no point in being morbid, after all. Not on the first day of the two week mid-semester Thanksgiving break. Her last assignment before finals has been handed in, and at least for the next week she can pretend she has no worries before that familiar finals panic sets in.

When the elevator lets her off on the ground floor, Kate lets the first truly relaxed smile spread across her face. Maybe she'll take out her bike for a celebratory spin. However, as she pushes open the front door of the building, that little knot of anxiety that had been detangling steadily since she pushed the paper under her professor's door retightens. In the haze of that productive mind set she's sure is the best friend of all students, last minute panic, she had managed to clear her mind of him. But now that weight has lifted, his face slides sneakily back into the front of her mind. In four hours he's going to show up at her apartment for their dinner date. Why did she agree to this? She's so not ready to date again after her disastrous ex. Let alone when she's so damn close to finishing this degree.

As if reading her mind, her phone buzzes. Yanking it out of the back pocket of her jeans, she subconsciously twitches her lips. He's sent her another of the cute little text messages he's been sending since they exchanged numbers, asking how her assignment went. She hasn't responded to all his messages, but she does this one.

_All good! Just barely made it on time, but that's enough! _

When she hits send she realises that the lines over her forehead have smoothed and that knot of anxiety has lessened slightly. That such a little text has noticeably had an effect on her both worries her and pleases her. Sure he seems great now, but she barely knows a thing about him, except his first name and that he's not a student. What if he turns out to be cruel and manipulative like Mark, her ex? What if he's really a psycho serial killer? She scoffs at herself. More troublingly, what if he's actually a genuinely great guy, and she really falls for him?

Worrying her bottom lip slightly between her teeth she picks up her pace towards her apartment, still in two minds about whether to cancel or postpone tonight. She's definitely in need of some advice, and knows her roommate will be full of just that.

* * *

Pushing open her Greenwich Village apartment door, Kate pauses, one eyebrow raised. She's used to the occasionally eccentric behaviour of her roommate, but this is a new one. The couch has been shifted away from the wall and repositioned in the middle of the room facing the wall and the large painting that normally hangs above the couch is gone. But the couch is not facing a blank wall. Instead, her roommate, who is nowhere to be seen, has plastered the wall with grisly photos, sketches, diagrams and notes. Dropping her bag by the door, Kate wanders over for a closer look, almost unable to look away. The majority of the images are close ups of human bodies, sliced open and dissected carefully. Some show only internal organs, muscles, bones and a lot of blood. Others are taken or drawn from further away and show the sections in the context of the whole body. Dotted throughout the images are pages of her roommate's handwriting, giving further detail about what the images show. Kate leans closer to inspect a particularly gruesome photo of someone's exposed heart.

"Girl, where have you _been_?!"

Kate jumps slightly and turns to find her roommate coming in from the kitchen, arms crossed but a broad smile on her face.

"Lanie! Geez you scared me. I thought you were out and had just left this artistic display for my amusement."

"Nah, I've got an exam first day back after the break. I figured if I had to stare at it all break every time I came home then some of it might sink in. Do you mind?"

Kate smiles, "Not at all. I like it. If anyone asks we could tell them we're solving a murder."

Laughing, Lanie sprawls on the couch, staring at the wall. "So where have you been? Have you been in the library all week?"

"Yeah, the library. Just handed in my assignment…" Kate trails off, unsure what she wants to share.

Lanie's eyes slowly, and a tad dramatically, Kate thinks, shift to her face, eyebrows lifting. "Kate Beckett. I sense more to this story, and you're holding back. You better spill, before you end up on my Body Wall." Lanie gestures to the wall of photos as she sits up straighter.

A rueful smile twitches at the corners of Kate's mouth and she sits beside Lanie, crossing her legs underneath her. "I may have agreed to go out for dinner tonight, with a guy I met at the coffee shop." Kate can see the excitement building on her friend's face. "I don't know if I'll go though," she finishes in a rush.

Narrowing her eyes, Lanie holds up a hand to pause the conversation and gets off the couch. Kate purses her lips affectionately as she hears Lanie banging around in the kitchen, the tell-tale clink of glasses and scrape of a bottle being pulled from a cupboard cluing her in to Lanie's intentions. A year ago, she knows, Lanie would have been all over her without hesitation, forcing her into a tantalising dress and pushing her out the door with no qualms. But it's only been a month and a half since the Mark Incident and she knows it deeply affected Lanie, too. Lanie had, after all, been a big fan of Mark. Until he started getting abusive. Plopping back on the couch, Lanie thrusts a glass of red wine into Kate's hands, sets the bottle on the floor between them and takes a sip from her own.

"Ok, explain."

"We-ell, there's not really a lot to tell." Kate swirls the liquid in her glass absently, considering the brief meetings with Rick at the coffee shop. "His name is Rick, he's not a student. He nearly knocked me over in Joe's on Waverly Place, then a few days later I almost brained him in the doorway… and then he asked me to dinner and I said yes."

"He sounds like a klutz! I know you, Kate. Especially now. There must be something else that made you say yes? I can see it in your face."

Kate takes a long sip of her wine before she answers, not entirely sure of the answer herself. "I really don't know, Lanie. Maybe I shouldn't go. I don't really have time right now. But there was just something about him; I didn't even realise I was going to say yes until after I had!" She takes another drink, contemplating his face in her mind's eye. "There was just so much going on behind his eyes. I guess I just… was intrigued? He seemed like a little boy one moment, but then I'd see something else in his face. And he was so nervous when he first knocked into me, he seems really sweet. But I'm not sure…"

"Kate, you should go. Can you even see how much you've relaxed since you started talking about him? Go! Have dinner! Find out something else about him than just his name. If it doesn't go well, cut your losses, at least you got to have a night out. But who knows, it could be really fun – it sounds like he could be just what you need. Look, you're smiling and everything!"

Kate nods slowly. Lanie's right, it's just one dinner. What's the harm? She hasn't been out with anyone since Mark; maybe it is time to get her toes wet again. It's just dinner, nothing more. She puts down her half drunk glass of wine and stands. "You're right. Ok, I'll go. But can you help me pick an outfit? I don't even know where we're going!"

Lanie smiles. Now they're in her comfort zone.

* * *

Wrapped in a fluffy towel, Kate fingers the trim of the classic black dress Lanie helped her select. Without knowing where they're going it was hard to pick something, but this dress, with its demure v-neck, fitted waist, lace panel down her back and abrupt stop mid-thigh, has always been one of her more versatile wardrobe options. Combined with black tights, shiny black heels and a long, warm winter coat she should be set for most venues. Unless it's the corner pizza joint or the opera… but she can hardly imagine either of those settings. She hopes.

Just as she's adjusting a thin red belt around her waist, Lanie bursts into her room in a very bright and very tight green dress.

"I'm off, Kate! William's downstairs, and my feet are ready for some dance-ing," she emphasises the last word with a flourish of her hips.

Kate grins at her roommate. "You didn't say you were going out with him again? I thought you said only four days ago that if you never saw him again it'd be too soon!"

With a little shrug of her shoulder and a cheeky smirk, Lanie pulls Kate in for a one-armed hug. "Let's just say he redeemed himself. Several times. I had hoped to meet this Rick guy, though, but William's being very impatient. If you do not give me every detail tomorrow, you will be in a world of trouble, Miss Kate." Lanie spins away towards the door, her dress disappearing beneath a thick coat. "Now, relax and have fun! You do remember how to do that, don't you?" Lanie gives her a stern eye until Kate laughs.

"Well, I sure used to. Don't worry, it's all up here," Kate taps her head.

"Mmhmm, well just do everything that I'd do, and you'll be fine!"

Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Kate waves Lanie out the door and turns back to her room. Her smile fades a bit as she fidgets with her hair. Fine, yes, she'll be fine. She finishes tucking the end of her belt through the loops and wanders into the bathroom for one more spray of hairspray, determined for the soft curls to hold. Satisfied, she rummages through her closet, locating her shoes and slipping them on. She's just wriggling her heel into the second shoe when there's a soft but sure knock on the door.

Her heart stills and she takes a breath. Shrugging on her coat and picking up her bag, Kate walks to the door. Waiting a beat with her hand on the doorknob, she peers through the peephole and tugs at her skirt. He looks nervous. She lets out a little puff of air and pulls open the door.

"Hi, Rick," she says softly.

"Kate, hi, these are for you," he thrusts a simple bouquet of lilies towards her.

Accepting them, she smiles, stepping back to let him in. "They're lovely, thank you Rick. I'll just put them in some water and we can go." As she turns towards the kitchen, she hears him close the door behind himself. She's just about to make another comment about the flowers when she hears him gasp.

"Oh my god."

Frowning, Kate turns and immediately sees what has caught his attention. Her stomach drops just a tiny bit as he takes a step back, eyes fixed on Lanie's Body Wall. Damn.


	3. Chapter 3

_**AN/ thanks to everyone who has read/followed/favourited or reviewed thus far! I'm sure those of you who have written stories before know how much those little alerts in your mail box can make your day, especially reviews, so extra thanks too to the three people whose reviews I couldn't reply to because you have your PMs turned off or you weren't signed in. I really appreciate it! **_

_**And on we go…**_

* * *

**-Three-**

Kate gulps, staring at Rick staring at the Body Wall. Why did this not occur to her? Placing the flowers he brought her on the kitchen counter, she takes a tentative few steps forward, ready to go into damage control.

"I, uh, can expl-" she cuts herself short when she sees Rick's face change, the shock falling off to be replaced by utter enthusiasm. When he throws her an eager smile and propels himself forward to study the photos on the wall close up, Kate raises her eyebrows, completely unsure of what to make of his behaviour. It is certainly not what she was expecting, at any rate.

"This is awesome. What's it for? Is it always here? Do you rotate around different body parts, or is the circulatory system a fixture? Are you planning a secret surgery? Ohh got it! You're a secret organ harvester teaching yourself the ropes!" With his last pronouncement, he spins and points at her with excitement.

Kate blinks. She's pretty sure he just set some kind of words per minute record. Wait, did he just accuse her of being an organ harvester?

"Um, no, my roommate is studying med and has a test coming up. The Body Wall helps her study… did you really just call me an organ harvester?"

He chuckles, but at least has the grace to look a bit sheepish. "No, no, well, yes. But wouldn't that be excellent? The student paying off her student loans by running a secret organ harvesting syndicate at night, selling org-" he shrinks a bit as one of Kate's eyebrows reaches valiantly for her hairline. "Yeah, no, you're right. Not excellent."

He suddenly looks so uncomfortable, and yet so clearly still wants to further inspect the Body Wall, that Kate spins back toward the kitchen to hide the smirk spreading across her face. Yanking a vase out of cupboard, filling it with water and placing the flowers in quickly without even removing the wrapping, she turns back into the living room. There's a slightly awkward silence as they look at each other, separated by the couch, the ridiculousness of the situation emphasised by the dissected body parts framing Rick's head.

"Shall we go?"

"You look great."

They both break the silence at the same time. Smiling, Kate thanks him and he steps out from behind the couch, proffering his arm, his eyes doing that disconcerting twinkling thing again.

* * *

Stepping into the small, dimly lit restaurant, Kate's nose is immediately struck by the tantalising odours. She's never had African before, but if the smell is anything to go by it's going to be a new favourite. The walls are covered in interesting African art, the bright and vivid colours, bold lines and comforting scenes of village life bringing a cosy feeling to the small restaurant, more reminiscent of being in someone's home than a commercial establishment. Vaguely aware of Rick talking to the hostess, Kate lets her eyes roam a particularly striking painting depicting two women and a child in traditional dress carrying food and baskets.

Taken with the simplicity and warmth of the painting, she jumps slightly when she feels his hands brush her neck as he reaches around to help her coat off. Her skin where he touched her sizzles faintly, and she's glad she has her back to him as she fights the blush out of her cheeks. Holding her arms back and shrugging her shoulders, she helps the coat into his hands that he then hangs on the pegs by the door. As the hostess leads them to their table, she nibbles the inside of her lip lightly trying not to focus on the feel of his hand on her back while they weave through the tables or on the coolness when they sit and the contact is lost.

"This place is great, Rick. I've never even noticed it before."

"Yeah, I love it. The food, the atmosphere, the staff – everything just fills you with heat and comfort. Have you had any type of African food before?"

"No, I haven't. It smells amazing, though."

"Oh, you're going to love it. This place is a bit of a mix, but it's mostly Ethiopian, a bit Westernised I suppose. Do you like spicy food? This lamb stew is fantastic. Oh, or are you vegetarian? This veggie curry is excellent, really big hunks of vegetables and loads of spices-"

Having decided to share the food in traditional fashion they scan down the menu, debating the different choices and options. His enthusiasm is contagious, and the different scents wafting from the kitchen make her stomach rumble.

After several minutes, the waiter joins in, offering tips and suggestions. When he leaves, they sit back, both more relaxed by the good-natured teasing they'd shared with the waiter over the menu.

"So, Rick. You said the other day that you're not a student, that you were just looking for inspiration. For what? Work?"

"Oh, yeah. Uh, I'm a writer, on my better days… I like to people watch, get ideas from people around me, try to think up interesting stories for the people I see on the subway or on the street – or in cafes."

"A writer? Am I likely to have read anything? What's your full name?"

"Uh, Rogers. Rick Rogers." Is it just her imagination or did he hesitate slightly before answering? Or is she just being paranoid? She brushes the little voice of concern in her head off.

"Nope, haven't heard of you. Maybe you should spend more time writing, and less time stalking women in coffee shops."

His face splits and he laughs loudly. "Actually, I believe _you_ were the one who was stalking _me_. I'm pretty confident that I saw you twice more than we talked last week, and you were watching me out of the corner of your eye."

Feigning outrage, Kate bites back, and they fall into an easy pattern until their food arrives. At first, she's a bit unsure of the large platter covered in a couple of spongy sort of giant pancake things with their different dishes served straight onto the bread, and the distinct lack of cutlery. But Rick winks at her, and following his lead she begins ripping off bits of the sour bread, called _injera_, and using it to scoop up food and sauce with her hands.

The conversation flows surprisingly easily for a first date, snapping from topic to topic and punctuated by satisfied moans at the utterly delicious food. It's tangy, and spicy and exactly as he promised fills her with warmth and comfort. She tells him about her family, Stanford and the awkward two years readjusting to living in the same city as her parents again while studying a demanding degree. He tells her ridiculous stories of growing up around theatres with an actress for a mother, getting into outlandish mischief generally involving trap doors and hidden costume and set storage rooms. They laugh often, and particularly hard when Rick gets a little enthusiastic while telling a story and manages to let an enormous glob of curry sauce fall out of the injera in his hand and into his lap. A couple of times it occurs to her that she's doing most of the talking, but he just seems so interested and keeps asking questions like her answers will reveal the secrets of life that she forgets her vague concerns.

Several times they reach to rip off more bread at the same time, her heart thumping somewhat harder when their hands brush. It's a surprisingly intimate meal, using their hands and ripping into the shared bread that holds their chosen dishes, but it isn't awkward.

In fact, Kate is pleasantly surprised at just how easy and enjoyable the whole evening has been. As they walk back towards her apartment quietly discussing their Thanksgiving plans (he's spending it with his mother, who is back in the city after touring for four months) their swinging hands keep accidentally bumping. Neither makes a move to increase their distance from one another. It's only a couple of blocks, and Kate realises that they reach her building far too quickly for her liking.

They stop and face each other, and she feels the nerves she so successfully buttoned down at the beginning of the night bubble up again.

"Thanks, Rick. That place was great, I had a really nice time." She smiles up at him, his eyes glimmering with the reflected glow of a nearby streetlight. Subconsciously, she sucks her bottom lip in a little, wetting it with her tongue. His eyes flick down and watch it reappear.

"Me too. We should do it again, maybe try cutlery this time." He grimaces down at the bright stain on his pants leg. Kate laughs, but stops abruptly as she looks back up and finds his face much closer than it was before. She's not entirely convinced her heart is still beating, but she is aware of the little flutters of fear in her stomach. She wants him to, oh she really wants him to, but she's not entirely sure she's ready. God, Mark really did a number on her, didn't he?

Without further warning, though, thoughts of Mark vanish from her mind, and the flutters grow wings and beat into something else as he surges forward, their lips connecting. He's soft and hesitant at first, but on instinct she opens her mouth and it's all the invitation he needs. His tongue brushes across her bottom lip as his hands come up to the sides of her face, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles above her ears and his fingers sliding through her hair. The takeaway menu she got from the restaurant as they left crumples in her hand when she steps into him, her hands gripping into his shirt on either side of his body. He tastes like spice and heat, and something else that she feels down to her toes. Her own tongue pushes back, past his and between his lips and he groans into her mouth. With their bodies now completely pressed together, she feels completely surrounded by him and his heat as their tongues slide past each other. With a mild gasp for air their mouths separate and all she is aware of is their shared breaths and the way his chest pushes into hers as they breathe.

He breaks the silence first. "We should _definitely_ do _that_ again."

Kate grins, pushes up on her toes again and briefly touches her lips to his before stepping away and toward her building's door.

"Yeah, we should." Leaving him still standing outside her building, she pushes through the doors and walks into a waiting elevator car. As it whisks her up the floors she lets out a deep breath, undeniably glad Lanie convinced her to go. If she was to ever break back into the dating pool that was absolutely the way to do it, and she finds herself far more eager than she expected to repeat the experience.

* * *

Kate squints her eyes, staring at the search results on her computer screen and skimming down the little synopses of each academic article previewed. This particular research task has been hanging over her head at work for two weeks now, and because it wasn't urgent and other work kept being piled on her desk she had to keep putting it aside. Finally, though, she's had a spare moment to get started. It's not surprising, though. The law firm she works at, like most, always get busier in the lead up to the holidays and the new year as clients try to wrap up their business and affairs for the holiday season.

Just as she clicks on a promising looking article a partner of the firm rounds the barrier of her little cubicle and leans against her desk, clutching a manila client file under one arm.

"Beckett, you busy?"

"Not overly, sir. I'm just doing that research for Mr Collins. I've got capacity, though, if you need me?"

"Can you enter these details into the system? Repeat client, he's already there, but it's a new matter. My money's on the charges getting dropped again, but just in case I need you to start looking into similar cases and what the outcomes were." He stands and tosses the file onto her desk.

"Of course, Mr Stieglitz," Kate reaches to slide the file towards her, but stops when the partner abruptly halts and turns back to her.

"Oh, uh, and I hope you had a good weekend?" He appears to force a smile onto his face, though it comes out a bit lopsided. Kate fights a grin. It's well known within the firm that John Stieglitz is trying to address concerns that he is not personable or approachable enough to less senior staff.

"Yes, thank you, I did. I hope you did as well?"

Mr Stieglitz nods stiffly, "I did, yes. Well, if you could get onto that file immediately, Beckett." As quickly as he appeared, he's gone. Kate thinks it's sweet, that he's been trying so hard when he's so obviously uncomfortable with working practices foreign to a lawyer of his vintage.

Saving the article she'd found and minimising the search screens, she again reaches for the file. His question throws her thoughts back to her weekend, though, and the previous week. It's been ten days since that African dinner date with Rick, and there have been four other dates since. Two more dinners, one lunchtime picnic and once ice-skating. She doesn't even bother to supress the smile spreading across her face. He had been surprisingly good at the skating, definitely appeared to know his way around the ice. There's more to that story, she's sure. All their dates though have been just as good if not better than the first, filled with laughter, teasing and his ludicrous stories. They have after work drinks planned for tonight, and as his face swims through her mind her stomach curls in anticipation. Maybe tonight she'll let him come up.

Flicking open the file, Kate marvels at that thought. After Mark she couldn't imagine letting someone in again, trusting them, but Rick has done an astounding job at weaselling his way into her life and mind, and in only a week and a half. But that's for later; right now she's meant to be working.

Snapping her eyes to the open file in her hands, she seeks out the charges that have been laid against the firm's client. Her eyebrows fly into her hair. That's a new one. Who steals a police horse, and, wait… he was naked, too? What client _is_ this? She looks up at the client details printed along the outside edge of the folder and finds his name. Richard Castle. Her brow wrinkles slightly. His name sounds vaguely familiar.

Kate taps her keyboard, banishing the firm screensaver and enters his client number into their case management system. As his details fill her screen, realisation dawns. He's that mystery author. Her mother has a couple of his books, she recalls, though she's never read one or even held one herself. She rolls her eyes. How egotistical and idiotic is he? Particularly if he's a client of the firm she works at he must have done well off his books, so what's he doing stealing police horses and parading around like some male Lady Godiva?

She clicks a few buttons, pulling up the screen to enter a new matter for these charges. He sure has enough previous matters in their system. He's clearly some kind of loose cannon little boy with money, bored with fame and success. What had Mr Stieglitz said? He expected the charges to be dropped? She's not surprised; all the other charges in their system were dropped too. Oh the perks of being famous and getting to live outside the laws that everyone else has to abide by.

The system asks her for the dates of arrest and when the charges were laid. Rifling through the pages in the file Mr Stieglitz gave her, she enters the arrest date, some two weeks earlier, the charges having been filed the next day. _Whip cracking pace the system's setting_, she thinks.

The corner of an image catches her eye in the paperwork. Pinned above the page where she found the arrest date is what she's sure will be a copy of his most recent mug shot. It doesn't make any difference to her work, but she can't resist seeing what he looks like, what expression the idiot who has behaved so ridiculously gets when arrested for the fifth time. Sliding off the paperclip holding down the pages on top she lifts them away to reveal the photo. Her stomach drops away completely and she gasps loudly enough to attract the attention of the secretary who sits next to her.

"_Rick_?!**"**

* * *

_**AN/ So, what do you think? Sorry this chapter is a bit longer, but I really wanted to get to that last bit before hitting another chapter. That moment where she sees the photo is the first part of this whole idea that occurred to me, so I really wanted to get to it.**_

_**Thanks for reading! And if you're feeling kind, please drop me a line! (And I'll stop with the terrible rhymes!)**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN/ Hey everyone! I just wanted to quickly start by apologising that this chapter took a bit longer to arrive. I've been away over the weekend and have been working a lot so haven't had a lot of time this week. But I ignored my messy kitchen just to finish this chapter off. So here it is, and I hope you enjoy it!**_

* * *

**-Four-**

_**Previously…**_

_The corner of an image catches her eye in the paperwork. Pinned above the page where she found the arrest date is what she's sure will be a copy of his most recent mug shot. It doesn't make any difference to her work, but she can't resist seeing what he looks like, what expression the idiot who has behaved so ridiculously gets when arrested for the fifth time. Sliding off the paperclip holding down the pages on top she lifts them away to reveal the photo. Her stomach drops away completely and she gasps loudly enough to attract the attention of the secretary who sits next to her._

"Rick_?!__**"**_

* * *

Kate picks up the photo, dropping the other pages back onto her desk. She's vaguely aware of the secretary next to her pushing herself towards Kate's desk on her wheelie chair, but since she's still not sure where her stomach went she doesn't acknowledge the other woman. A small part of her notes how steady her hand is, holding the mug shot in mid-air, but the rest of her is slowly spinning out of control.

Unable to even tear her eyes away from his face, she's not entirely convinced this isn't some huge joke. She actually wouldn't put it past him to concoct something as over-the-top as this, just to mess with her. Yes, it mustn't be real. He's obviously arranged with Mr Stieglitz to have this come across her desk, just to see what she'd do. As she considers the outlandish tales of his childhood and pranks he pulled on his mother and friends growing up, Kate almost convinces herself that he's clearly pulling one over on her now.

Almost, that is, until that little voice in her head reminds her that while she has told him she works at a law firm, she never told him which one nor given him any hints as to which firm. Given the sheer number of firms in the city, there's no way he'd be able to find out where she worked, and he doesn't yet know any of her friends or family who he could ask. Not to mention, if she's being realistic, there's no way Mr Stieglitz would go along with it, especially going so far as to create a false client record in the system complete with previous legal matters. Cold fingers lick through her veins from her heart. This is no joke.

As if to confirm her swirling thoughts, the secretary, Alex, leans over Kate's shoulder and clucks her tongue, tapping the mug shot with a bright red talon-like fingernail.

"Richard Castle up to his antics again, is he? Do you know him?" Alex's shrewd eyes study Kate's face, and she works hard to wipe her expression blank.

"Oh, no, I don't know Richard Castle." _It isn't a lie_, she thinks. "I've just seen his books on my mother's bookshelf."

"Well, he might be able to spin a tale, but I swear that boy has no sense, and more than a few screws loose! Honestly. Although his fees alone must fund my pay-check, so I can promise you I bring him coffees with an extra big smile when he comes in for meetings!"

Kate frowns. "You know about him? Why haven't I seen him?"

"Are you kidding, darl? That boy must make weekly appointments with Mr Stieglitz. Been getting into mischief for what, a few months, now? I guess you just haven't been lucky enough to be working on a day he's been in." Alex drops her voice conspiratorially, and Kate leans in, unable to resist. "And every time he does come in, he's always got some flashy bimbo on his arm. I mean, it's one thing to be a playboy on your own time, but who brings them to a meeting with your lawyer? Cotton candy for brains, all of them, too. And I can tell you cause I always have to entertain them while he's in with Mr Stieglitz. I wonder who his new bimbo is. Well, if you've got his file out then I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

Winking at her, Alex pushes herself back over to her own desk, leaving Kate reeling. Was anything he told her true? Her mind flashes back on their first date, when he told her he was a writer. She'd asked his full name and he'd hesitated. At the time she'd blown it off as her being silly, but obviously she should have listened to herself. What's wrong with her? Kate mulls over Alex's words, and she's excruciatingly aware that her stomach has found its way back into her body because it's twisting painfully. A new bimbo every time? Does he think _she_ is his new bimbo of the month? Does he think _she_ has cotton candy for brains? Did he lie about himself to all those other women, too? Something inside her clenches as she imagines him pulling her into the firm's reception, imagines Alex handing her a coffee and babysitting her while he has his meeting, feeling Alex's judgment. No. No, she is _not_ one of those women, no matter what he thinks.

Tapping the keyboard to bring the monitor back to life, she pulls up an internet search engine. Though completely aware that it's a terrible idea, she can't help herself. Typing in his name, she pulls up a list of news articles about him. A thumbnail of a promotional photo appears on the side of the search results, his very familiar lips stretched wide in an enticing smile. Kate wrenches her eyes away, feeling slightly sick. About halfway down the page she finds a small piece about his arrest from some celebrity gossip site. The article is brief, gives her even less information than the case file in front of her, but it does come accompanied by a grainy photo of him being pushed into a police car, wrapped in a blanket. Only half aware of her actions, she prints the story.

Kate's eyes fall to the time in the corner of her computer screen, and with a jolt she realises she only has an hour left of work. If she can't get herself to focus, enter the details and start the research for Mr Stieglitz it will be more than her personal life on the chopping block. Kate takes a deep breath and returns to entering all the case details into the system. But it's busy-work, and she can't stop her thoughts skimming through everything he's told her, every _lie_ he's told her.

Her stomach has stopped twisting, and has instead begun to churn more fervently than her grandmother's old washing machine. Maybe she'd been right, after Mark. Maybe she really can't trust anyone.

* * *

Kate is fuming. With every stride she takes down the street, her heels clack noisily and to her mind only become the percussion to the angry tirade inside her head. How could he lie to her? Did he just want to get her in bed, and was playing some sick game? What does he want from her, if she so obviously has no place in his actual life? And what about those bimbos Alex mentioned? Is she just the latest in a string of airheaded conquests he's collecting?

In that final hour at work, every detail about his case she'd entered had made her feel more ill, and more stupid for falling for his lies. But by the time she'd finished entering the case into the system and had started researching similar cases the anger had started to grow. She'd looked up his previous arrests, and as Mr Stieglitz had suggested, all the charges had been dropped. He obviously has connections. What makes him think, though, that he can just go flaunting the law, like it doesn't mean anything to someone like him? Who steals a police horse, really? And who does it naked?

Storming across a street, weaving between the peak hour traffic, Kate grits her teeth. In actual fact she has no idea what to say to him when she sees him. When she'd said goodbye to Mr Stieglitz and Alex she had considered cancelling their after work drinks plans, or even just standing him up. She's still not entirely sure she made the right decision, to still go and confront him. But she's nearly there, now, and her brain hasn't come up with a better idea. All she really wants to do is just slap a copy of his mug shot in front of him and see what he says, but she'd be fired so fast if she took or copied information from a confidential client file.

The bar they chose is quiet when she arrives, and it's quickly clear she's the first to arrive. Ordering a very stiff vodka martini, she settles in at a table near the back and waits. Kate nurses her drink, twirling the olive through the liquid. Sitting still, without the pounding of her shoes on the concrete city streets, she feels the anger draining away. It's replaced only with a bone-deep weariness. How does she keep finding herself tied up with such arseholes?

Someone pushes the door open, and without even looking Kate knows it's him. Still swirling her olive through the half-drunk martini she doesn't even hear what she can tell is a cheerful, excited greeting. If not for the slow rotation of her wrist, she could be a statute. She doesn't look up, and as he sits quietly Kate can tell he's worried. Yet now that he's here, after her emotional tumult of an afternoon, her mind is blank. She feels numb.

"Kate? Kate, what's wrong? Kate?"

Her name breaks through her mind, but instead of replying she thinks back to her earlier desire to confront him with his mug shot. She doesn't have a copy of that, but she has something else. Reaching into her handbag, sitting next to her on the bench seat, she pulls out the gossip article on his arrest she printed out and slides it across the table in front of him.

He picks it up curiously, and she finally looks up at him, sees him stiffen as he begins to read.

"Care to explain, Mr _Castle_?"

He looks wary, but forces an obvious smile onto his face, trying to laugh it off. "Uh, well, boys will be boys… Why, do you want to approach the bench and badger my witness? We could always adjourn to the bedroom…"

His innuendo falls flat, and, unimpressed, Kate makes no move except for a slight hitch in her left eyebrow. He looks defeated. With a sigh, he starts trying to explain.

"Kate. I don't- I just- I'm sorry I kept this from you. I didn't mean to. Really. My life's just been such a mess, and I don't know. I was just so… captivated by you. And when you agreed to go out with me, I just wanted to leave my baggage behind, so when you asked my last name I gave you my birth name instead. I didn't lie about that, not really. I was born Richard Rogers. But, I know, I know. It's not the same. I'm sorry. I'm…"

His babbling trails off, and still she says nothing. Kate can tell he's waiting for her to say something, but she hasn't got anything. What does he want her to say? 'Oh yes, fine and peachy, let's forget it'?

He rubs a hand over his eyes and sinks down into his chair. "How did you find out?"

At his question, she finally feels herself getting angry again. "Why does that matter?" she hisses, and he flinches. "What else are you hiding that I should be on the look out for? Or _who_ else?"

For a moment he looks mildly confused, but he just shrugs. "Call it morbid curiosity."

Kate sighs, not missing that he dodged her questions. "The firm I paralegal at is Rogers, Macpherson and Kelley." His face pales. "A partner handed me your client file today, asked me to enter the details for your most recent arrest."

"Kate, I'm sorry, really I am. It doesn't have to change anything, it doesn't-"

Kate drains the last of her martini and cuts him off. "Of course it changes things," she snaps. "I don't know you at all." Pulling some money from her bag, she throws it down on the table and stands. "Don't call me."

Heart pounding furiously in her ears, Kate leaves him sitting there with her empty glass and the printed gossip site story. She knows she had to, but damn if it doesn't hurt like hell.

* * *

_**AN/ I know! Train to angst central departing from platform 5. I'm sorry! I'm apparently just incapable of pure fluff. Though I struggle to imagine Kate just being ok with such a big lie with just an apology. But fear not, Kate might be stubborn but so is the universe, and this is not the end. **_

_**Please let me know what you think, good bad and everything in between! What did you like/not like? Have I completely shown my utter lack of knowledge of life in a US law firm? Let me know! Reviews can make a dreary day just so much better. **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**AN/ Hey chappies! Wow, I can't thank you all enough for your beautiful replies and follows after the last chapter! My mailbox and I are very gratified.**_

_**I had meant to get this up last night, but I accidentally made the fatal mistake of writing it while listening to Adele. I wouldn't recommend it. Kate's mood took a dramatic turn, and absolutely had to be edited slightly. Gotta love ya, Adele, but you've really gotta know your place!**_

* * *

**-Five-**

Tiny flecks of dust slip quietly through the light filtering in through Kate's wooden blinds. They float gently before coming to rest on the exposed calf lying on her sheets in a rare patch of sun in the otherwise dim room. Occasionally a single fleck is granted a second life when caught in a gust of air, whirling back up to the ceiling and getting lost in shadows before making another careful descent.

The Tuesday morning sunlight resting across her leg is very warm and comforting. As her mind stumbles awake, the warmth spreads a smile across her face and she softly stretches her feet from her ankles, wiggling her toes slowly. Rolling onto her back, Kate extends the stretch into a full body extension. Her somewhat crooked blinds only let morning light fall on her bed in the late morning, and waking up with the heat of the sun on her legs has become one of her favourite parts of sleeping in since she moved into the apartment with Lanie.

It's so rare that she gets to sleep in at all anymore. Between working two days per week at the law firm and her full time study load her long lost luxurious mornings are becoming despairingly infrequent. Truth be told, she really should have set an alarm for this morning, really get her butt into gear in the lead up to final exams. But exams are still weeks away, and the lure of one last sleep in on her day off before cramming becomes her main preoccupation was too good to resist.

With a jolt, however, her mind wakes enough to remind her of how she _had_ planned to spend her last lazy morning. And that plan had not included stretching in the sun alone. All at once she feels like someone has dumped icy water on her at the same time as an anxious flush of heat runs over her skin. The two sensations are so at war, but nonetheless ripple violently through her together, jerking the last of the sleep from her fuzzy brain.

"Rick…" she whispers to herself. The previous evenings events saunter casually through her mind, and she's half shocked that she slept at all. Yet she recalls now getting home, crawling into bed and falling deeply asleep almost instantly, exhausted by her wildly varying emotions.

For several long minutes Kate stares up at the ceiling, watching the carefree floating of the dust. Ten minutes, she tells herself. She has ten minutes to allow herself to feel pain, and then she'll be done. She'll let herself feel the effects of his lies, and then she'll get up, get dressed and make toast. Toast she can do. Toast is totally innocent, and has nothing to do with scheming, playboy, lying, arsehole writers.

So she lies there, following the invisible tracks of the dust with her eyes, trying to breathe through the seemingly enormous weight now resting on her chest. How can his betrayal hurt so much after only ten days? A strange mix of anger and despair seeps through her body, leaving her feeling paralysed. Would it be inappropriate to use her legal connections to run background checks on potential dates? Maybe, but perhaps it's worth the risk to avoid this. She'd really let herself think he was different. Different to Mark, different to what she'd come to fear from relationships. She'd let him draw her in, make her laugh, set her cells alight with his touches. But in the end he's just the same. Just as deceitful, just as selfish. And it hurts just as much as she feared. More, in fact.

Absolutely without her permission, one lonely tear slips from the corner of her eye. She closes her eyes as it makes its salty bid for freedom and gets absorbed by her pillow. Taking a deep breath, Kate exhales slowly, willing her heart to slow its beating. The futility of this is made apparent when her next inhale refuses to come in one smooth action, but instead comes in several small, jagged gasps that do nothing but set her heart at a sprint and release two more tears from her eyes. Yanking her hand up to cover her eyes, to interrupt the salty paths of the tears, a single audible sob escapes from her mouth. In the silent room it sounds to her as loud as a firecracker. Forcing herself to hold her breath, Kate lurches up into a sitting position, crossing her legs beneath her.

Turning to her bedside table, she considers her alarm clock's glowing face. Nine minutes. Close enough. That's it, she's done. Dropping her shoulders back, closing her eyes and lifting her chin slightly, Kate lets her breath out slowly through her lips, forcing all her concentration onto her breathing. She lets herself sit for a moment with empty lungs before carefully and slowly allowing them to fill again through her nose. For ten long, slow breaths, she repeats the pattern. In through the nose, hold, out through the mouth, hold, in through the nose.

On the tenth breath she opens her eyes again, feeling less tense, though perhaps not as far as feeling actually relaxed. But at least she's not sobbing. As she climbs out of bed and hunts for a clean pair of sweatpants in her drawers, Kate considers the day before her. What she needs is to keep her mind busy, and Professor Cromwell's punishing criminal law syllabus seems just the trick. As long as she can get through the day, keep her mind distracted, she'll be fine. Tomorrow she'll be busy at work, and then her family will keep her distracted through Thanksgiving. And by then she'll have completely forgotten about him. Completely. Easy. Just as long as she keeps her mind off him today.

* * *

Her plan fails within the hour.

She'd made it out of her room, and she'd even made toast. And just as she'd predicted, the toast was wholly harmless. Just bread dried to a crunchy crisp, absolutely no danger there. It starts to go downhill, though, when she settles on the couch. With a steaming cup of coffee in hand, she arranges the couch cushions into a more comfortable shape (resolutely ignoring the Body Wall lest it remind her of their first date) and begins flipping through one of the trashy magazines Lanie is so addicted to. At first it's fine. Reading about an heiress' suspected eating disorder slash pregnancy and gazing at the dresses the editors thought the best and worst of a recent awards show is just the kind of meaningless rubbish she needs. But when the next page reveals his twinkling eyes and cheeky smile she nearly throws the magazine across the room in shock. Instead, she slams it closed and replaces it with an old copy of Vogue. His newest book would certainly not get a full-page colour ad in a fashion magazine, she's sure.

The real problem, though, is when a yawning Lanie emerges from her room, likely drawn by the scent of Kate's coffee. When she catches sight of Kate sitting on the couch, she stops, a frown sinking over her face.

"Kate? What are you doing here?"

Kate coerces her face into an expression of puzzled amusement. "What, you mean sitting here on our couch, drinking our coffee, in our apartment?"

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Lanie shuffles into the kitchen and pours her own cup of the deliciously caffeinated brew. "No, well, yes, but why are you doing it alone? I thought you had big plans with writer boy?"

With extreme effort, Kate controls her breathing and her face, not letting anything budge. Her control, though, does not extend to being able to produce a reply to Lanie. As the silence ticks on, she feels Lanie sit beside her, can sense her staring.

"Kate? What's wrong?" Her voice is soft, but when Kate still fails to answer, it begins to rise in agitation. "What happened? Kate? Did he try to _hurt_ you?"

At that question, approaching an alarming volume, Kate slumps back into the couch and turns to Lanie. "No, Lanie. Nothing like that. He's just… We're just done."

Thoroughly unsatisfied with that answer, Lanie swells. "What? Why? Yesterday you were prancing out of here, all excited and cute, and about damn time too. Have you even seen yourself this last week? You've been sickeningly happy! I've seen you! You smiled more last week than you have all year, so what gives?"

"Lanie, don't. He's not who I thought he was," she says softly, trying to concentrate on her breathing again.

"Oh, honey, what do you mean?"

Kate's eyes close as she shakes her head slowly. "He lied, Lanie. About everything. About who he is. _Literally_," she whispers. Unable to explain properly, she picks the gossip magazine back up. She sees the surprise flit across Lanie's face, but her friend doesn't say anything, just waits. "Here, look." Kate thrusts the magazine at Lanie, open to the ad for the new book.

"Son of a..." Lanie stares at her, shocked. "Seriously, _this_ is _Rick_?!"

Kate nods, giving a rueful twitch of her mouth. "I found out when one of the partners at work handed me his client file yesterday. He got arrested, Lanie, two weeks ago."

"_What?!_"

"He stole a police horse. God, Lanie, how do I end up with these guys?" She takes a long sip of her coffee to steady her voice. "I saw him last night. I told him not to call."

Lanie lets out a long breath and leans back, too. Kate's grateful; she doesn't think she'd be able to keep it together if Lanie were to hug her. Her roommate's next comment, though, actually manages to startle a laugh out of her.

"Want me to kill him? Like, actually? I've learnt a few pretty good ways to do it now, no one would know."

"Thanks Lanie, I appreciate the offer. But it's ok. I think I'm just going to go for a run. It wasn't even two weeks. I'll be fine."

Kate's pretty proud of how normal she sounds. Yet as she heads into her room to change into her running gear, her best friend's concerned gaze burns a hole in the back of her head. Maybe she'll go for a long run. A _really_ long run.

* * *

Never before has Kate been quite so grateful for the extent of the pre-holidays workload at the firm. It's after nine pm, but the office is still full with no signs of slowing down, and she's managed to keep thoughts of him down in the single digits. With every client and lawyer wanting a clean break (or as much of one as possible) for Thanksgiving the next day, every task she's been given has been on the tightest of deadlines. The sheer volume, and the immense pressure to work at an ever-increasing pace, has kept her adrenaline running and her mind full all day. Like her marathon run the day before after her talk with Lanie, she's found that the more intense the activity the less she dwells. With that goal in mind, she pulls another file towards her and begins editing documents for an appeal, focusing solely on the client's needs.

An hour later, Kate's starting to feel the exhaustion hit. Or maybe it's hunger. She's pretty sure she missed both lunch and dinner. Not that it matters: her parents always go all out at Thanksgiving, and she'll probably eat a lifetime's worth tomorrow. Still, maybe she should head out soon. Almost all the other support staff and paralegals left hours before.

Just as she decides to start shutting down her computer, Mr Stieglitz rounds her cubicle wall.

"Oh, good, Beckett. You're still here. I need you in a meeting Monday morning."

"Of course, Mr Stieglitz. With which client? I'll prepare over the weekend." Kate pulls a notepad towards her, preparing to write down the details.

"No need, you're already up to date. It's with Mr Castle."

Approximately half of her internal organs mutate into jelly, neatly sliding out of her body. "Mr- Mr Castle? With the police horse?" Kate's mind spins. This cannot be happening.

"That's the one." Mr Stieglitz chuckles, completely oblivious to Kate's brewing horror. "Charming man, you'll like him. All the ladies do." He frowns slightly, as if trying to figure out the secret formula to charm that he so sorely lacks. "Ten o'clock."

Kate realises he's turning to leave. "Mr Stieglitz! Wait!"

"Is there a problem, Beckett?"

Kate stutters, trying desperately to tamp down the heat she can feel seeping into her face. "Uh, well, maybe. I, um, well it might be a problem because…"

"Spit it out, I don't have all night." Impatience covers his face.

Taking a deep breath, Kate steels herself. "I've been dating him, sir."

His eyebrows fly up. It's clear that whatever he was expecting, it was not that. "Are you still seeing him?"

"Uh, no, no I'm not."

"Well then I expect you to be there. We're understaffed next week, with so many people taking extra time off for the holiday. Unless you don't think you can remain professional?"

Instinctively, Kate bristles. "No sir, I'll be there."

"Good. I'll see you first thing Monday, then. Don't be late." He nods. "Oh, and happy Thanksgiving, Beckett."

As soon as he rounds the corner, Kate collapses back into her chair. Taut coils of sheer panic start to claw their way through her.

_Oh god_, she thinks. _How the hell am I meant to survive this?_

* * *

_**AN/ Sooooo, whatcha think?**_


End file.
